Shattered Glass
by xAyatsuri
Summary: It's been a year. The traumatic events buried in the back of their minds have come to burn their way back into memory. The past they can no longer avoid hangs over them like a thick mist, returning to haunt them yet again. Each of the seven have been affected in different ways - and while they don't have the strength to save them selves, can they figure out how to save each other?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _One year ago._

 _Everybody's out, Sam. You can do this._

All she felt was sheer terror and adrenaline. Her ears were ringing from the ear-grating shrieks of her mutated best friend, and the cold of the lodge was biting into her skin. She had to move before the numbness and exhaustion kicked in- she needed to do it now.

Steeling herself, the blonde bolted towards the lightswitch. She could feel them, oh my God she could _feel_ them there, feel their bitter breath on her neck - all she had to do was get to that lightswitch and then it would all be over, everything would be all gone. Sam grunted as she pushed herself towards her absolute limits, internally thanking God when she felt the smooth porcelain shape of the switch between her fingers. She flicked her fingers upward, and then all she could feel was the searing heat of the explosion and the harsh collision of her body against the snow.

The only thing Emily registered except for _Thank GOD, I'm ALIVE!_ was the screaming figure of her friend as she sailed through the air, riding the waves of the monstrous explosion of the lodge. "Holy shit. Sam!" she screamed. Sam's body remained still for the next several seconds, shock still against the ashy snow. "Sam! Sam! Oh my God, Sam!" Emily cried as she reached to help her friend up. Sam started to regain consciousness; her eyes snapped open and wildly scanned the landscape all around her, frantically looking for the next threat that would peer around some black corner of the burning lodge. "Sam, you're okay! We're all okay! You did it. You saved us, Sam. Oh my God, it's going to be okay!" The silky-haired teen reassured her friend as the blonde's eyes started to glaze with exhaustion.

Emily heard a soft "Thank God" that was riddled with pain and a restrained sob. All she could do was offer her a shoulder to lean on, and as their rescue descended upon them, that's exactly what she did.

Chris and Ashley steadily walked towards the helicopter rescue, leaning on eachother for support.

"Chris…" Ashley choked. "We made it."

"Everything's gonna be fine, Ash. We're safe now. We're safe."  
The two of them stumbled into the helicopter, instantly crashing into the seats that were offered to them. Ashley curled into the strong, protective warmth that Chris offered, his arms snaking around her and embracing her tightly. Ashley cried into his shirt, tears of pure relief amidst the noise of the crackling fire and the whirring blades of the helicopter. "We're gonna be fine," he soothed. "We're gonna be fine."

Mike said nothing as he boarded the rescue helicopter. He sat down, breathing heavily from the adrenaline high and the injuries he sustained. He looked at Sam and Emily, sitting side by side as his ex-girlfriend supported the woman who saved all of their lives. Sam's eyes were darting back and forth; her breathing was quick and erratic. He could only imagine what she was feeling- she stayed behind so that everyone could be saved, facing the multiple wendigos head-on as the others ran to safety. That kind of bravery is hard to come by, he thought.

The pain in his left hand began to set in. Now that the body's natural painkiller was starting to wear off, the multiple gashes and wounds all over his body began to throb and sting. All he wanted to do was go home, and ignore the countless bouts of questioning they were no doubt about to receive. He locked eyes with Chris from across the seating area of the helicopter, and could tell his friend was thinking the same thing. None of them wanted to retell what they had just been through.

Six hours later found Chris and Ashley in the sitting room of a hospital. They had been treated, questioned, and were now waiting on their friends to finish police interrogation. They were told nothing about the others, about Matt, or about Jess - all they could do was hope. Clinging to some shred of light, Chris silently worded a prayer to anything that would listen.

 _Please. Let them be okay._

Emily joined them soon after, choosing to sit away from Ashley. The guilt in Ashley's eyes was plain to see as she looked at her raven-headed, probably-ex, friend. Emily locked eyes with her, and even though she knew that Ashley felt like hell for what happened- she didn't want to forgive her right now. She looked sharply away, waiting until the others of the group would join them, remaining silent.

Mike joined them soon after, looking no better than the rest of them. He slumped down heavily in an uncomfortable metal chair, staring at the floor. He was completely silent- until he heard muttering coming from the next room.

 _Let us see them!_ a male voice.

 _Are they okay?_ a female voice.

Mike's heart skipped far too many beats as his mind registered who those voices belonged to. The others must have made the same connection- as their heads shot up and swiftly turned to face the door. Soon enough, the door busted open to find a frantic Matt and a bewildered Jessica, eyes searching for their friends. Instantly, Emily leaped up and ran to Matt, catching him in a hug that rendered Matt speechless. Emily has never behaved like this, ever.

"Oh my God, you ASSHOLE! I thought you died!"

She pulled away from him, punching his shoulder (not too hard - she could see that he wasn't in the greatest shape).

"I could say the same! That was at least a hundred-foot drop, Em! How did you make it?"  
"I'll tell you later," Emily sniffled, letting out a relieved laugh and another sob.

"...Idiot."

…

"Jess?" Mike voiced.

Jessica turned towards the source of the sound, eyes brimming with tears.  
"Mike…" she choked out pitifully. She dropped the blanket she had been given and started to stumble over to her boyfriend.

"Jessica! Fuck, I thought you died! I thought you died…" he whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace. He soon pushed her away to assess the damage. He wished he hadn't seen a thing.  
Her entire body was a landscape of blood, cuts, and - most likely - broken bones.

"Oh my God, Jessica!"

The confused blonde turned her head to see none other than Emily coming her way.

"Emily? Why are you… so happy to see me?" she breathed.

"Hey. Chicks before dicks! Best friends forever, right?" Emily stated lightly, regret and hope laced into her eyes.

"I'm glad you're okay," she added, a heavier tone weighing down her words.

"I'm glad you're okay, too," Jessica returned, offering as reassuring a glance she could muster.

"Sir, Ma'am, we're going to need you to come with us," a police officer said. "You need to be treated. Especially you, miss," he said, gesturing towards Jessica. "You're lucky to be alive."  
"I know," she whispered.

I know.

Sam walked in last, seeing the dazed faces of her four companions that were with her in the lodge. Mike looked at her, his eyes red and puffy.

"They're alive," he said. "They made it."  
Sam couldn't believe it.

"Oh, thank God," she whispered, hands rising to cover her face as tears began to fall. All of them made it. It was going to be okay.

"Thank God."


	2. Chapter 1

**Hey all! I honestly didn't expect this many views, especially this soon! Thanks to the people who have favorited and reviewed. It made my evening ^^  
This story will definitely continue. I have big plans for it, and I hope that you all will stay for the ride, however bumpy and emotional it may be. After falling in love with Until Dawn, I was left with so many ideas after its ending. This fic is going to delve into the psychological trauma and how it manifested itself differently into each of them, as well as how they as a group help one another heal. I hope you all enjoy reading this story as much as I am enjoying writing it! **

* * *

**Chapter One.**

Warm air whispered against Emily's soft skin, offering to her some of its ethereal glow in the unusually mild winter's day. The ambient noise of people living their lives surrounded her as she sipped her iced cappuccino; she was embracing and enjoying the moment for what it was - a splendid date with her incredible boyfriend. She looked into Matt's eyes with a sort of confusion. After what happened eleven months ago, she never could quite place why he stayed with her. He was so protective and loving, and all she did was bitch and whine. Hell, she would have broken up with someone who treated her like that.

But Matt was different. Matt was understanding. Whenever she felt torn in a battle against herself, he was there to reassure her. What mattered, he said, was that she apologized and was trying to change.

"What are you staring at me for?" The chocolate-colored man asked, brow raised in both confusion and apprehension.

"I'm just looking at how hideous you are, doofus," came the silky sweet reply.

"Hey!"

Such playful banter had become common between the two of them; though some part of Emily still hurt whenever it happened. She used to force venom behind those words. Her eyes were woven with regret as her smile faltered, and all Matt needed was one look to tell what she was thinking.

"Hey," he muttered softly. "I love you."

A newer, realer smile began to transpose itself onto Emily's porcelain skin.

"I love you, too," came the soft reply. And she meant it.

"You know what else I love?" Matt inquired enthusiastically. "That shirt!"

Emily straightened a little at the compliment, looking down at her silvery-blue top. It was cut low enough to be sexy, yet high enough to be modest; its long sleeves were covered with complex little swirls embroidered in white.

"Why the long sleeves, though? It's pretty warm out today."

Emily stiffened, suddenly annoyed by some internal qualm.

"It's in fashion, Matt. Not that you'd know, though."

Her reply was terse and bitter, laced with some unknown anger.

"Woah, sorry. It just seems like it would be a little hot," he said, trying to prove he meant no insult.

Even though instant regret filled her, she snapped out an equally harsh reply.

"God, whatever. Just stay out of stuff you don't understand."

"Hey, Em. That isn't fair."

Deep down, she knew he was right, but she couldn't let him see it. She couldn't let him see that her iron-clad wall of defense had any crack, cut, or dent.

"Whatever. Let's just go," she offered, finishing off her drink and picking up her bag. The open space of the cafe had suddenly become claustrophobic, the noise suffocating in its volume. Matt scrambled up to stand with her, unfurling some bills and placing them on the table.

"Woah, Em. Where are we going?"

"Your car," she replied curtly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm ready to go home."

Matt nodded, recognizing her need for space. It hurt when she was bitchy, but only because he knew it meant she was shutting him out- he could only hope that one day, she'd open a door in her impenetrable mental barrier.

Emily wrapped her arms around herself as she walked through the crowded street, boxing in her thoughts as she walked briskly towards Matt's car. It was a gift from his parents to help him with college; he was working hard on a double-degree in engineering. Emily was a full-time student majoring in fashion design with a minor in art. The _design_ had come easily to her - the drawing, not so much; however, with a lot of hard work, she could finally transpose her vision into paper - though quite differently than the rest of her class. Her style was fluid and realistic, unlike the sharp, angle-y lines of her peers. For whatever reason, the thin, spider-like models that her classmates splashed out onto the page unnerved her.

Matt eyed his girlfriend as her arms wrapped tighter against her feminine frame. He was no idiot; ever since that night, he had noticed little changes in her body language that lied unnoticed to the common observer. She was slightly more reserved in her manner, shrinking in on herself when she thought nobody was looking. He saw the cracks, no matter how much she tried to hide them. A swift pang of guilt came over him; he had seen her worse and couldn't help her then, either.

Before either of them could finish their internal wrestling, they found themselves in front of Matt's car. He swiftly took out his keys, inserted them into the door, and twisted. He flipped a button that unlocked the rest of the doors, and hurried himself over to Emily's side. Always the gentleman. Emily gracefully slipped inside, lanky limbs supporting her weight as she crawled into the passenger's seat. Before he closed the door, Matt could have sworn he heard a soft 'thank you.' The corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly. He had come to realize that her bitchy attitude was just a defense mechanism; that a tender, loving woman lied beneath the calloused exterior. He maneuvered his way over to the driver's side, and rather unceremoniously clambered into the seat and turned over the keys. The engine came to life with a soft growl, and the stuffy air began to circulate through the ventilation system. Out of the corner of his eye, Matt noticed his girlfriend reach out and turn up the air conditioning. Not that he said anything, though. He didn't know what was wrong, but he knew that it wasn't only about a shirt; Emily was not that shallow and he was not that imperceptive. No, this was something bigger - he just didn't know what.

Thirty minutes and an empty ride car filled with small talk later, and they were at Emily's door. She rented out a cute little flat, sleek and elegant. The interior was most likely modern- not that Matt would know. She had never let him in the place.

As Emily got out of the car, he ventured to joke with her in an effort to lighten the air between them.

"What, are ya not gonna invite me in?" He asked in a long drawl, wiggling his eyebrows in a crude attempt to be flirtatious.

Emily didn't seem to notice the joke, and as such, she replied with annoyance.

"Oh my God, Matt. We've been over this like a hundred times. I don't want you staying over!" She said, voice sharp with irritation. Suddenly, she noticed that her sleeve had somehow gotten caught in the strap of her bag, and she suddenly felt a breeze where the rest of her shirt should be. She quickly jerked her sleeve down the length of her arm, hurriedly crossing her arms in front of her chest. This did not go unnoticed by Matt, who raised an inquiring brow at his love's actions. He sharpened his inquisitorial eyes in her direction, now noticing the sudden discomfort and shame laced into her eyes.

"It's cold," she stated plainly.

After a second of pause, she turned heel and walked towards her door, adding a hasty and hardly audible "I love you" to her retreat.

Matt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, immeasurably frustrated with himself for not being able to be there for her; for not being able to figure out the problem. He felt like the answer was staring him in the face, but he was unable to meet its crystalline eyes. Inhaling, he put the car in drive and sped off towards his university. He had class in an hour, and he couldn't afford to be late.

Emily fumbled around with her keys, her chest feeling tighter and tighter every moment she was outdoors. She just wanted to get out of sight and forget the past two hours with her boyfriend. It wasn't him- no, it was never him. It was her. She screwed it up again. She bared her sharp claws to the person who least deserved it. To the person that loved her.

She finally got the delicate key into its sturdy lock, crashing through the door and closing it quickly behind her. In her battle to regain control of her breathing and heart rate, her back slammed against the door and she slid down the length of the wall, disintegrating into a shattering wall of silent tears. She wrapped her arms around her knees, burying her face into the tight protection that her legs offered. Absentmindedly, her hands were fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves.

No further effort was made to move, and the dark-haired beauty fell asleep to the feeling of her lungs filling with the thick air of her apartment, arms clamped tightly against her chest.


	3. Chapter 2

**Hello, all! Back again with another (long) chapter. Thanks for reading! I forgot to mention the past couple of uploads, but there is a definite trigger warning in this story. I wanted to explore the characters' psychological issues, and how they dealt with them. Some may turn to self harm, and I'm not going to shy away from that - just a forewarning. Not all of them, obviously, but some.**

 **In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **Chapter Two.**

Chris took a deep breath, reveling in the scent that enveloped him. His girlfriend's shampoo smelled of strawberries, and he couldn't help but take another sniff, pressing his nose into Ashley's head.

"So, uh, you gonna stop sniffing me any time soon?" The strawberry blonde inquired. "It's kinda freaking me out," she continued, humor woven into her voice.

After another long draw-in of Ashley's scent, Chris replied in a loving tone.

"Nope. You smell too good."

"Whatever, weirdo. How about we pick a movie to watch instead of lying around," Ashley proposed.

Truth be told, Chris didn't really want to move. He quite enjoyed the position they were in; Ashley's back held firmly against his chest, his arms encasing her in his warmth. Chris inhaled deeply one last time, before unfurling his arms from around her and moving his legs.  
"Way ahead of ya, Ash," he grinned. "Picked this up at a Redbox this afternoon."

Chris reached over and grabbed a movie that was sitting on their little coffee table. Pulling his arm back in, he twisted his wrist so she could see the cover of the movie.

"Mockingjay part two," he said. "I knew it was one of your favorites, and we missed the movie release, so I figured why not, ya know?"  
Ashley's eyes lit up at the prospect of seeing the final part of her favorite series. She shuffled excitedly to her feet, stretching her limbs and bouncing off to the kitchen with a rabbit-like energy.

"I'll get the popcorn!" she voiced, reaching for the top kitchen cabinet.

"It's in the other one, Ash!" Chris yelled, laughing at her forgetful nature.

"Duh, I knew that! I live here, idiot," she retorted, clambering up onto the kitchen counter to reach the popcorn's correct hiding place. They had bought an apartment together about seven months ago. They needed each other, as was made evident by the countless late nights soothing one another from the demons that crawled into their sleepless slumber. They saw this place and instantly fell in love; it had a quaint little living room area, an adjoining kitchen/dining room combo, and a cozy master bedroom. It was the perfect size, and plenty of windows allowed for natural light to stream in. Now, the windows reflected the light of the stars and the moon's luminescent glow.

The resounding 'beep' of the microwave came in a long whine, ceasing only when Ashley undid the latch and opened the door to the annoying device. The smell of buttery popcorn permeated the apartment with its intoxicating bouquet, and the couple's mouths were watering in anticipation. After pouring the popcorn into a large bowl, Ashley made her way back to the living room to deliver said sustenance. Chris sat there, crouched in front of their DVD player as he fiddled with the clumsy machine. After a little bit of grumbling and a sharp blow to the body of the player, he sat back and turned on the TV, returning to the couch where his beloved sat waiting for him. She eagerly patted the seat beside her, already munching on the popcorn like a squirrel in a pile of nuts. He sat down and wrapped his arm around her, grabbing the remote from their table.

"Ready, sweetheart?" he inquired. After receiving an earnest nod, he turned his eyes back to the screen. Trailers for other movies were playing, with dramatic narration coupled with epic music. Chris moved to skip them, reaching for the remote, before Ashley stopped him with a light slap on the hand.

"The previews are the best part!" she exclaimed, mouth broken into a smile and eyes full of mirth.

"Fine," came the smooth reply. Chris planted a kiss on his love's forehead before once again turning his eyes towards the screen, eagerly anticipating the end of the series of trailers. He was never one for them, preferring to get to the movie as soon as possible - but if she wanted to watch them, he was all for it.

But suddenly, he felt uneasy. Something felt wrong, and he was sure Ashley could feel him shift uncomfortably. Before she could make any effort to ask what was the matter, the next preview started playing. It opened with dissonant violins and the tagline 'Based on a True Story."  
Great, a horror movie. Nether one of them were huge fans, considering that they had lived through their own and didn't want to be reminded of that experience in any way. Chris made a move to skip to the movie's menu, but sensed his girlfriend immediately stiffen. He turned to look at her face, and knew something was wrong from the way her hand drifted to her mouth, clamping over it in horror.

"Is that… us?" she whispered in disbelief, eyes wide in dismay at the scene before her. Confused, Chris turned to the screen, only to see a massive cabin on a snowy mountain, with the fade-in text reading " _The Lodge_."

 _Oh no,_ he thought. _This can't be happening._

A woman's scream rang through the room, played from some scene in the trailer.

" _Oh my God, no!"_ came the voice in a whining mewl. The trailer rapidly cut to different settings, showing seven separate teenagers, each running from something in the woods. It then cut to the dripping darkness of mines, where a resounding screech could be heard from within the darkness. The preview's music began to get louder, playing over clips of people running. The cast looked just like them - they were even wearing the same clothes. The incident in reality was shrouded in the government's cloudy air; a cover-up to best all cover-ups. The general public couldn't know about the Wendigo, but there had to be some reason seven teens were rescued and traumatised beyond belief. The media released their pictures from that night, and wove the story that the people would believe. There was a killer - some psychopath - that hunted them, and they had to blow up the lodge to kill him. The truly perceptive, however, saw through the holes that were covered with frail lining, and therefore tried to explore them. Conspiracies shrouded the mystery, and it was no wonder that they were making a movie out of it. They really should have expected this.

A harsh grunt snapped them out of their thoughts as they continued to watch the screen in silence. The scene was shown in rapid clips, depicting Sam as she ran through the lodge, running for a switch with a madman behind her. She flipped the switch and the structure was immediately engulfed in flame; a harsh, too-close-to-home scream erupting from the lungs of the actress who played Sam. The final clip showed them all getting up from the snowy ground, camera panning up and over the burning remnants of the lodge, heading for the rescue helicopters overhead. The screen faded to black, and the last thing either of them saw of it was the release date. Of course, it was the day of the one-year anniversary of the incident.

The screen rapidly switched over to the title menu of their rented movie, epic music blaring over clips of the film they were no longer excited to see. The popcorn lay forgotten in Ashley's lap as she clammed up, staring at the screen with a pained face. A dense silence hung between the two.

"Ash?" Chris ventured, anxious at the look of torment in her face. He received no answer.

"Talk to me, Ash. You okay?" he pleaded, concerned with her silence. He was sure his own eyes were laced with pain, and he could feel an uncomfortable lump in his throat as he remembered everything that happened eleven months ago. Before now, they had both refused to acknowledge the anniversary, hoping it to pass as just another day. The past week or so had opened up an uncomfortable space between them, filling up with the silence of the words they were avoiding to say to each other. Maybe they would have been able to ignore it. But not now.

"Oh, Ash," he whispered, reaching out his arm to snap her back into reality. However, when his hand reached her shoulder, she flinched violently, effectively jolting out of whatever internal nightmare she was reliving.

"Sorry," she stated blankly, eyes downcast.

"It's okay, Ash," he said. "You don't need to apologize. I'm still here, and that night is never happening again."

He received nothing but silence from his other half, who was mutely staring down at the ground. He moved to embrace her, but she didn't return the motion. She was in some sort of dazed state, and Chris didn't really know what to do. She was clearly too deep into her own thoughts to register anything he was saying or doing. Night terrors were different; Chris could simply hug her and reassure her, and she would be asleep within the hour. Anxiety attacks he could handle. But this was something different. She had never completely shut herself in before, and Chris felt powerless to help her.

"I'm still here," he offered, snaking his arms around her frail form. "I'm never going to leave your side, okay?" He soothed, tightly squeezing her stiffened body. After a minute or so, her frame released the tension it held, and she soon returned the hug with a weak grip.

"Let's just watch the movie," she said.

"Alright," he returned, acknowledging her need for some distraction. He leaned over to the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and pressed 'Play Movie." The screen shifted into the story, displaying an epic and tragic tale of hurt, adventure, and overcoming inner demons, but the mood was effectively ruined by the distasteful trailer of the night they'd rather forget. Sighing, with a sideways glance at Ashley's blank face, Chris sat back into the couch, letting himself escape into the movie.

"How did you like it?" Chris inquired after the movie's end.  
"It was alright," she replied, enthusiasm still gone. Chris regarded his girlfriend with a sad look. If only he had switched to the title menu before that trailer came on, this night would have ended on a happy note. Or at least, on some note that didn't involve them reliving their internal nightmares over again. Nevertheless, it was late, and they needed to go to bed. A dense silence filled the room as neither of them said anything to one another. After a few moment's pause, Chris finally spoke up, trying to restore some sense of normalcy into their dwelling.

"I'll use the bathroom first," he offered, going off to brush his teeth, pondering on what Ashley could be thinking.

Ashley watched with regretful eyes as her boyfriend walked into the bathroom.

 _I don't deserve that man,_ she thought, eyes pleated with self-loathing. She thought back to the movie trailer, to the whiny screams of "Oh God, no!" that she replayed in her own head. She was sure that whatever actress screamed such words, it was undoubtedly for Ashley's character. Ashley looked down at the numerous bracelets that laced her wrists, covering up the damage she had done underneath. Chris walked out of the bathroom, his eyes filled to the brim with concern. For her.

 _I'm such a burden,_ she thought. _All I do is give him more to worry about._

Without a word, Ashley herself walked into the restroom and closed the door behind her. She picked up her toothbrush with a heavy hand, staring back at her own reflection. Her eyes filled with hate as she regarded her form. She thought of so many names for herself.

Dead weight.

Useless.

Whiny.

Good for nothing.

None of them were good, and deep down, she _knew_ she deserved it. She was so selfish on that mountain, whining and screaming and crying at every turn. She didn't deserve to be here anymore.

She angrily threw her toothbrush down, and it fell with a clatter to the floor.

"Ash? You all right in there?" Chris asked from outside of the door.  
"Fine," she responded lightly. "I just dropped something," she lied, unconvincingly.  
"Okay," came her boyfriend's skeptical reply.

Ashley proceeded to rinse off her toothbrush and brush her teeth, facing away from her reflection.

Chris regarded his girlfriend with a soft look as she walked out of the bathroom, eyes woven with some untold pain. She made her way to their bed where she lied down next to him, burying herself in the warmth of their puffy comforter. Without a word, she turned off her light and turned away from him, signaling her desire to be alone for the moment. Chris reluctantly agreed to her silent request for space and turned away from her, turning off his own bedside light, plunging the room into total darkness. Soon, he drifted off to sleep, brow furrowed in worry.

Ashley's eyes remained wide open as she drowned in her own self-hate. That movie trailer took her back to her pathetic night on the mountain, fumbling around, constantly waiting on Chris to save her. She had even panicked and tried to convince Emily to leave the safe room, or worse- to have Mike shoot her. She didn't do a single useful thing that entire time on the mountain, and she hated herself for it. Slowly, she got up and quietly snuck into the bathroom, removing her bracelets and sitting next to the bathtub. She reached over and grabbed her razor from the bathroom counter.

Her wrists were a blank canvas for her hate, and she had plenty to paint. 

* * *

Sam gracefully prowled around her kitchen, reaching into her cupboard and pulling out a clear glass. She moved over to the sink and filled her cup with the delicious nectar that is water. She heard shuffling behind her, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw her friend open the door to her refrigerator and pull out a bottle of apple juice.

"Hey Sam, can you hand me a glass?" she inquired, reaching her hand out in the blonde's general direction.

"Sure. Here you go," she returned, handing a cup to her inky-haired friend. Emily had stayed the night with Sam watching old horror movies, and they had a lunch date with Mike and Jess in an hour.

"So, what was your favorite movie, Em?" the blonde asked. Emily had never seen any of the old horror classics, so last night was a new experience for her.

"I liked Friday the 13th," she said. "It was hilarious!"

Sam regarded her companion with a fond glance. To be perfectly honest, she was glad Emily wasn't the squeamish type - she didn't scream once, and the gore didn't bug her like it did with Ashley.

"The characters were so _classic_ ," Emily stated, reflecting on her new favorite genre of movie. "The 'damsel in distress' chick? Perfect."  
Sam let out a soft laugh, noting Emily's newfound love for horror.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said. "Thanks for not taking it too seriously," she giggled.

"How could anybody? It was solid comedic gold," Emily retorted.

"No, no please!" Emily, laughed, imitating the flat acting of the 'dying damsel' characters they had watched last night. Suddenly, she noticed Sam was no longer laughing with her.

"No, please!" Emily had whispered, eyes full of fear. "Please!"

Emily shook her head, backing onto the table, back hitting the wall behind her in the damp of the basement. The gun was trained on her head, and she was trying to shrink into herself, putting her knees to her chest.

"Mike, stop it!" Sam screamed, pleading with her friend to not do the unthinkable.

"This is the safe room, Em!" he had yelled, determined. In that moment, Michael stood resolute, gun aimed squarely at Emily. After what seemed like an eternity, he released the tension in his shoulders, hands flying to his head in frustration.  
"I just can't do it," he let out exasperatedly.

Sam faintly heard a voice calling to her, repeating her name like a mantra.

"Sam! Snap out of it!" Emily called, arms firmly around her friend's shoulders. "Sam!"

Suddenly, the fair-headed woman's eyes snapped open, frantically scanning the room before her as her body went rigid.

 _Don't move,_ Sam thought to herself, her breathing becoming quick and shallow. _Don't fucking move a muscle._

All of a sudden, Sam again found herself back in the Lodge, Hannah screaming at her from every corner of the room.

"Sam!" Emily called. "Samantha! It's me! You're at your apartment, Sam. It's okay," Emily offered, watching as Sam's eyes slowly centered upon her.

"You're okay."

Sam refocused herself, drawing in deep breaths as she scanned the walls of her apartment. She looked at Emily, her dark brown eyes filled with concern. Emily had a firm grip on her shoulders, rubbing them slightly to reassure her of this place's reality.

"Sorry," Sam voiced.

"Don't worry about it," Emily reassured. She understood what her friend was going through, and she sure as hell wasn't going to judge her for something that all seven of them did.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a quiet sort of peace, with Emily offering light conversation to coax her friend back to normal. Before long, Sam was breathing normally and the memories of the lodge were once again buried in the back of her mind.

"It's time to go, hun," Emily said. "We need to be there in fifteen."  
"Alrighty, then! Follow me," came Sam's reply. Sam briskly walked to the door, where she grabbed her coat and her car keys.

The car ride was pleasant, filled with fun music and Emily's fashion advice.

"You really should dye your hair!"

"Emily, no. I couldn't pull that off."  
"Psh, whatever. I mean sure, you may not be as fabulous as me, but-"

A thud on the shoulder.

"Hey!" called out the fashion student.

"That's what you get, kiddo," Sam said.

"I was just kidding, old lady. Besides, you're only like, a month older than me."  
"That's thirty days your senior!"

Emily let out a long sigh that sounded suspiciously like there was a "whatever" hidden inside.

Soon enough, they pulled up to a little diner-style restaurant, where Mike and Jessica sat waiting for them. Jess tapped on Mike's shoulder, drawing his attention to their friends getting out of the car. Jess was waving excitedly, sipping on her soda. Mike nodded at Emily, and she offered a small wave. That was an improvement from the first three months off of the mountain, for sure. Emily understood why Mike and Ashley behaved like they did, and she had forgiven them, but she could never forget that feeling of fear; the feeling of staring down the barrel of a gun, knowing you're going to die. Still, she was trying to improve their relationship. It just took time, and Mike and Ashley recognized that.

Mike regarded his ex-girlfriend's tiny wave in his direction and the corners of his mouth turned upwards ever-so-slightly. He could never forget the guilt of that night, but the signs of acceptance reassured him. One day, he mused, they may all be okay.


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I am SO sorry that this chapter is so late. I wasn't really feeling motivated as I had a lot to do, but it should be more regularly updated now. There is a definite Trigger Warning in this chapter. We've already seen the cracks in our beloved characters, but how long can they hold it all together, I wonder? Hm...

In any case, I'm sorry if this chapter doesn't really please you. I was struggling to find the words to write it, but I hope that I got the point across sufficiently enough for it to be enjoyable, at least!

Mike awoke to the soft feeling of a tongue lapping against his cheek, waking him with a start.

"Wolfie!" he cried. "Get off of me, man. Five more minutes," he said, rolling over and shutting his eyes once more.

"Mike, pancakes are ready!"

Mike's eyes opened, gleaming with anticipation. The smell of homemade pancakes wafted through their apartment, making Mike's mouth water.

"Coming!" he yelled.

After unfurling himself from his comforter, Mike swung his legs off of the edge of the bed, stretching his limbs rather ungracefully. Mike looked down to see his companion; a dog that he and Jessica had rescued from an abusive neighbor. It was a purebred Husky, and most people just smiled and said that it was cute. But his friends knew why they kept it. A brief memory of a wolf on a certain blood-drenched mountain came back to him. _I wonder… are you even alive?_

Mike's thoughts were interrupted by Wolfie's cold nose on his hand, prompting Mike to pet him.

"That's a good boy, wolfie! Go play with your mother while I get dressed, okay?"

The dog barked obediently and bounded off into the kitchen.

With a soft sigh, Mike made his way to the dresser that he shared with Jessica. He pulled on a clean grey shirt and then moved over the their apartment's thermostat. "It's fucking freezing," he exclaimed to nobody in particular. Turning back to face their bed, his eye caught on some papers that lied on his girlfriend's desk. After that night on the mountain, her modeling career was completely shot. Everyone told her that she had too many scars, and that she just wasn't 'beautiful' or 'feminine' enough. After months of crying over dreams that couldn't come true, Jess turned to her best friend. Emily suggested writing to help put her feelings onto paper - something that she (hesitantly) admitted to doing herself. It turns out that Jess was a natural, words flowing from her mind like water from a stream.

Mike snapped out of his tangent thoughts,eyes wandering over to the papers on the desk. _I haven't read this one,_ he thought. _Did she write this last night?_

Curiosity piqued, he walked over to her workspace and picked up the piece of paper, now evident to be a poem. She always shared her poems with him, so there was no guilt in reading it.

However, the poem's title made him feel… uneasy. His interest deepened as he continued on to the first line.

" _Not Me_

 _A girl looks at herself_

 _Feeling beautiful and poised_

 _Skin smooth, features immaculate_

 _But nothing_

 _can recover those days._

 _Ask her again later,_

 _o mirror, mirror_

 _who is the one fair_

 _and full of beauty?_

 _And the mirror looks back_

 _broken and scarred_

 _and says, my dear girl_

 _Not Me."_

Mike suddenly felt consumed with guilt. _If I had been fast enough... If I had been strong enough… maybe she wouldn't have had to deal with so much pain._

"Mike? The pancakes are going to get cold if we don't eat them soon -"

Jessica halted in the doorway to their bedroom as she watched Mike grow distraught over her poem.

 _I meant to put that away,_ she thought.

"Mike? Babe?"

Mike slowly turned to face her, and as he did, his eyes briefly flashed with some untold emotion. _Grief?_ Jessica thought. _Guilt, maybe? Guilt for what?_

"I'm sorry, I meant to put that away," she muttered, glancing down at the floor. She didn't mean to cause him any pain.

Hearing no response, she glanced up only to see him extending his arms towards her, capturing her in a warm embrace.

"You're beautiful, you know that? I love you," he said.

Taken by surprise, all Jessica could do was mutter a quick "I love you, too," before she gave him a little squeeze.

Wolfie's bark broke them out of whatever moment they were having them, making Jessica and Mike jump.

"Oh, shit!" Jessica exclaimed. "I left him in there with the pancakes!"

Jessica dashed off to the kitchen, Mike laughing behind her.

"God damn it, Wolfie!" He heard her yell a second later.

"Jess, let's just go out for breakfast today, okay?" Mike suggested, laughing at the scene in the kitchen. The dog was looking rather guilty, locked in a stare-down with a red-faced Jessica.

"Fine…" she muttered, breaking off the angry eye contact. "As long as we can get pancakes," she muttered harshly, grabbing her keys and stomping out of the door.

"Whatever you want," Mike said, rushing to catch up to his girlfriend as she marched down to their complex's elevator.

"But you have to wait for me!"

Matt was beyond worried.

Em hadn't attempted to contact him in two days, nor had she responded to any of his texts or calls. After how strangely their last date went at the cafe, Matt had been trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle that he _knew_ he was missing. Matt thought back to that date, envisioning her rushing into her house after a panicked outburst at the cafe.

 _Damnit, what am I missing?!_

Matt thought hard. The date was last Friday. He saw her after his classes on Saturday and Sunday like normal, and they went on a more sophisticated date on Monday to some fancy upscale restaurant. She didn't seem upset when she left - in fact, she left looking pretty happy. The only time she seemed remotely displeased was when…

 _when I complimented her on her bracelets,_ he thought.

"Thank you for dinner, Matt," his girlfriend said, gazing up at him with gratitude.

"It was my pleasure," He said.

The way Em's eyes lit up made him feel completely content in that moment as he paused to take in her looks. His eyes moved from her face to her porcelain shoulders, sheathed by a thin wrap that went with the sparkling black dress she wore underneath. Emily raised her hand to rest gracefully under her chin and turned her head slightly, eyes taking on a mischievous glint.

"Like what you see?" She asked.

"Absolutely," he replied, leaning over the table to kiss her. "You look beautiful, Em," he said, a hand reaching out to feel her hair.

"And you look like a mess as always," she retorted.

"Oi!" He voiced in protest.

"I'm just kidding, you dork. You look nice."  
Matt smiled. While Emily was working hard to tone down her 'bitchy' act, compliments from her were still rare to come by.

As he reached out to take her hand, his eyes were caught by a glint in the corner of his eye.

"These bracelets look beautiful," He said. "Aren't they itchy, though? There's so many of them," Matt inquired. Her bracelets covered about three inches of each arm.

"I suppose so," She replied.

Matt looked up, only to glance a bit of panic flash across Emily's chestnut eyes.

"What's wrong?" He inquired.

"Nothing. I was just thinking about the bracelets," she said.

"Why don't you take them off?"  
Another flash of panic.

"My outfit wouldn't be complete without them!" she stated, a little too hastily.

Matt raised an eyebrow at her forced words, but he decided to let it go. He didn't want this date turning out like last time.

"Oh, I get it. Sorry, then," he replied with a smile.

"If it helps, they look amazing with that dress," he said.

Soon after that, the atmosphere was normal again and he drove her home, like always. Emily got out of his car with a quick "I love you" before turning around and opening her mouth once more. "Matt, if you want…" she started, before hastily adding a "nevermind."

"Stupid," he heard her mutter to herself.

"Goodnight," he said, giving her kiss on the hand.

"Goodnight," she replied. "See you soon."

Since then, nothing.

"Come on, Matt, think," he told himself. "What do you know?"

 _Is it because the anniversary is coming up soon?_ he thought. _I suppose that would make sense. But even before it was even on our minds…_

Matt thought on it for hours, laying out in his mind all of the pieces to his fictional puzzle. Since the mountain, she's refused to get intimate with him. Not that he minded waiting, but it didn't seem like her to abruptly refuse anything more physical than kissing. She never let him in her house, which was also unlike her.

 _The missing piece must be in there, somewhere!_

Matt thought back to the cafe date, suddenly recalling a detail that he had overlooked.

 _Both times, the conflict started because of what she was wearing. Long sleeves on a warm day, and tons of bracelets that were clearly uncomfortable for her to wear - so many bracelets that they covered all of her wrists._

And then it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

 _Oh, no._

"Shit!" He yelled, jumping for his keys and dashing out of his dorm and out to his car.

Fumbling for the keys, he unlocked his car door and started the engine. He looked over at the clock. 11:30 at night. Matt knew that she rarely went out after eleven anymore - she typically stayed at home unless she was with him.

 _I'm coming, Em._

As the minutes passed by, Matt's anxiety deepened. Internally, he deeply hoped that he was mistaken in the story that his puzzle-solving presented him with. "Please be alright," he repeated the words over and over, glancing at the car's clock.

At last, Matt signaled to turn onto the street that her flat lied within. Frantically, he looked for the driveway that led into the building. Matt realized that there was no immediate space for his car, and he wasn't going to drive out of the way to park it.

 _I don't have time for this,_ he thought, pulling over and removing his keys from the ignition.

Matt ran up to Emily's door, knocking loudly.

"Em! Em, it's me!" he cried, disparaged when he heard no reply. Eyes hopeful, he reached for the doorknob and was flooded with relief when he heard the click of the door opening. _She must have left it unlocked on accident,_ he thought. _Although that's also worrisome-_

Matt pushed aside those thoughts and rushed into the little place.

 _I have to find her,_ he thought. That was all that mattered.

Stepping forward, he realized that only one light was on behind a single locked door - he assumed it was the bathroom of the place.

Moving closer, he heard muffled sobs echo behind the door.

"Em?" He called out, pressing his ear against the door. He heard her jump, clearly startled by his presence.

"Matt?!"

"Em, I'm coming in!" He yelled, twisting the knob.

 _Shit! It's locked!_

"Matt, no! Please!"

 _I guess I don't have any other options, here!_

Filled with adrenaline, Matt thrusted his shoulder into the door with all the force he could muster. The door didn't stand a chance and it was flung open, revealing a sight that Matt never thought he would see.

 _Emily…_

There she was, stunned into stillness, bleeding on one arm and holding something behind her back with the other.

"Em, what are you hiding behind you?" Matt inquired.

"Nothing," she whispered, clearly hoping that the pitiful lie would convince him.

"Em, what is it?" He asked again, voice breaking.

"Nothing!" she shrilled, backing up all the way to the wall, pressing herself further into it.

Matt came closer and moved to take her arm out from behind her.

"Matt, no! Please!" She screamed, shrinking into herself and kicking violently.

With ease, Matt reached behind her and took whatever she was holding. Looking down on it, he saw a pocket knife covered in blood.

"Emily, please tell me you didn't," he said, arms welling with tears.

He looked over to meet her eyes and was met with paralyzed orbs filled with fear.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears falling and head bowing in shame. She began to curl in on herself, her bleeding right arm covering her shirt in crimson.

Hardly able to think, Matt reached out and pulled her suddenly frail-seeming body into a tight hug. Emily returned the embrace, arms reaching out and grasping onto her boyfriend with all of her might. All she could do was apologize. Matt didn't know what to say or do, responding only with squeezing her tighter.

"I'm so sorry, Matt. I just couldn't…" she trailed off, regressing into quiet sobs for another moment, Matt embracing her all the while. "I just didn't know how to deal with it anymore," She said.

 _How did I fuck up so badly?_ Emily thought, tight in her boyfriend's grip. _Wait, is he…_

Emily felt Matt's arms shake around her as he pressed her closer into his chest.

 _God damn it…_

"Matt," she said weakly. Reluctantly, she pried herself out of his arms, glancing up only to see a face that she never wanted to see him wear. Eyes shut in pain, crying for Emily. For her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He choked out.

"I was ashamed," she said, tears still falling. "After everything we had been through together, after how strong we were on that mountain, I was ashamed to have something like this beat me. I didn't know how to deal with it. Somehow… it felt worse than being on the mountain."

"Em?" He asked, eyelashes glistening. "Don't ever keep something like this from me again," he said. Quickly, he turned his attention to her wrists, recalling that they still weren't bandaged.

"Do you have gauze?"  
"In my medicine cabinet," She replied, shamefully averting her eyes from her bleeding arms. She looked up to find Matt with blood all over his letterman Jacket.

"Oh no," she said. "I'm sorry, Matt. I know how much that jacket means to you," she said, looking down at the floor.

"You mean far more than it does, Emily," he said.

Returning to her side, Matt picked up her arms, wincing at the severity of the different cuts.

"This is going to hurt a little," he said.

"I know," she replied, glancing at the bottle of cleansing alcohol he held. He poured some on a cotton ball and began gently cleansing her wrists.

Emily gasped and winced in pain.

"I'm sorry," Matt said.

"It's my fault anyways," came the reply.

Matt gently wrapped her arms in the gauze, careful not to wrap them too tight. After he was done, he kissed both of her hands and held them to his chest.

"Emily, don't be ashamed of this. I'm here for you, too, you know," he said. "You aren't the only one still haunted by this pain. And maybe it won't ever go away, but I love you no matter what."

Emily stared at her boyfriend, filled with love for him.

"Thank you, Matt," she replied.

"I love you. This time, we'll get through things together."

Slowly she moved forward, kissing him softly before returning to a warm embrace.

Emily was out like a light. Matt pulled her closer to him, careful not to wake her. He rested his chin on her head, wrapping one arm around her waist. Slowly, he sat upright and picked her up, carrying her to the bed.

 _What would I do without you?_ He thought. Gently, he lay her down, climbing into bed with her soon after he cleaned up the aftermath left in the bathroom. He fell asleep, relieved to know that Emily was alive and next to him.

 _I love you, too._


	5. UPDATE

Hello everyone! Well, like, the three of you that followed, maybe, if you're actually reading this.

Anyways.

I have good news and bad news.

Good news: I will be continuing writing for this story, hopefully to some form of completion.

Bad news: I won't be continuing it as it is now.

Now that probably doesn't make any sense, but if you're still with me, let me explain.

I didn't like the way I was writing this story from the get-go. I never had an idea or plotline for a full story written in this format, but I thought I'd give it a shot anyways. Bad mistake. From the beginning, I wanted this story to be a series of connected oneshots, if that makes sense - just little oneshots in the same universe of hurt/comfort and angsty feels mixed with some fluff.

Also, looking back at this story, the writing is god-awful. I may go back and rewrite some chapters, I may not, I don't want to make any promises (that is, if anyone is even reading this, lmao).

So, anyways, hopefully within the next couple of weeks I'll start putting out chapters semi-regularly in the way I wanted to in the first place.

If anyone has read this far, thanks! I hope you enjoy the new content. Hopefully it will be more well-written and less horribly heavy-handed and cliche!

Yours,

Ayatsuri

操り


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